The Good Mourn the Wicked
by OnFireGeek
Summary: While no one mourns the wicked, Glinda mourns the loss of the woman behind the title of "Wicked Witch of the West". Musicalverse, set during NOMTW.


Glinda's smile felt uncomfortably stretched across her face as she watched the people below her celebrate. Their dancing, singing, and happy chatter only intensified when she arrived, and as soon as she stepped from her bubble, they gathered around her, bowing and meeting her smile with genuine grins. She took their hands in her own and met their eyes, letting them look past her sparkling dress and wand to meet her face.

Glinda the Good was doing her duty of reassuring the public that the menace was gone and celebrating, but Glinda, who had lost the two most important people to her in the past 36 hours, was celebrating that the true menaces of Oz were gone. But more than that, she was mourning the cause of the great celebration throughout Oz. One of the single largest celebration in Ozian history was that of the murder of a woman by a little girl. Glinda had never been the best in ethics or history, that had always been…well. But the entire ordeal failed to be as black and white to her as everyone made it out to be.

It didn't matter what happened, Glinda told herself as she stepped back into her bubble. She had made a promise, to the only friend she'd ever had that had mattered. And she wouldn't break it. Not when the continuation of the lie the public believed was taking Oz down a road of social reconstruction. Animals were getting closer and closer to not only getting their rights back, but also their speech, if Chistery was anything to go by. Glinda would make the lie worth it. She would work hard, fight the battle until she had won, and she would honor the people who had pushed and inspired her in silence.

Glinda smiled downward at the people as her bubble began to rise, and joined in the final bars with the song that had become increasingly popular in the past few hours. No one seemed to mind that her ending note sounded more like a cry than the proper adjective. Instead, they waved as she bid them farewell, but one question stopped her.

"Is it true you were her friend?"

The question had Glinda the Good, in all her public and political graces, floundering. How could anyone know enough to ask that question? It had been several years since their time at Shiz, and any interaction between them since had either been private or in an argument.

Of course, Glinda knew the answer she must give. She had promised. "No" was the only thing she could say. The only thing she should say. But the query threw her back and she remembered who; yes, was her dearest friend.

The one who had demonstrated truly raw magical power mere moments after Glinda had met her.

The one who had gotten Glinda into the sorcery seminar when they still loathed each other.

The one who had challenged the condescending stares and laughter by dancing without music, while wearing the most hideodious hat with a glare that dared anyone to say anything.

The girl who accepted Glinda's wordless apology and danced with her.

The girl who took on the perky nickname, and saw the sparkly blonde as someone with more than a name and a look, but as someone with a mind and a heart.

The girl who invited her to the Emerald City, and understood why Glinda could not leave with her.

The woman who stole away with Glinda's fiancée.

The woman who grieved so deeply for her sister, it was all Glinda could do to not let tears fall for her friend's loss, and not her own grief at the lost of an old classmate.

The witch who had slapped her, and had stayed still and let her wave her ridiculous wand all she wanted before meeting her in a match that was more equal. Glinda was far less powerful with magic, and they both knew it. Throwing down brooms and wands pushed the fight to their hands, a place they could both handle themselves adeptly.

And lastly, the friend who's face had broken when she received word that the man she loved was dead. The friend who demanded Glinda leave and stay silent to protect herself and her reputation, because in the end, Elphie cared more about Glinda than she could ever care about herself. And Glinda knew the opposite was true as well. But when the torch of making Oz right had been passed into her hands, Glinda was surprised. The ancient tome had felt heavy, but lighter than expected, considering the weight it held with it was handed to her.

Elphie's beautiful face flashed through her mind as she relieved their friendship in the moments it took her to make a decision. She had promised to not clear the name of the Wicked Witch of the West. She had promised Elphie. Saying anything but a negative affirmation would distress the public, and already she could see the worry and apprehension on the faces of the people below her. There would be consequences if Glinda the Good used to be friends with the Wicked Witch of the West. She would need to do immediate damage control, and it would take work to make sure it didn't hurt her image. She was keeping her promise to Elphie in order to help make Oz better. She took in a deep breath, prepared to lie.

But Elphaba Thropp's face appeared in her mind, smiling. Glinda remembered the expression. They were in the Emerald City, about to see the Wizard for the first time. It was the last time they had both been truly happy. The time they were at their happiest, together.

She would lie later; she would do the damage control later. For this moment, she was going to acknowledge the most important person in her life.

"Yes."


End file.
